


A Case For Two

by Black_Rose_117



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century
Genre: M/M, Sherlock/Greg - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:58:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Rose_117/pseuds/Black_Rose_117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not always simple to get the great Sherlock Holmes to understand the point of "feelings".</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Case For Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NobodiesDragonGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=NobodiesDragonGirl).



It was early in the morning of a Saturday when Sherlock answered his phone to a very frantic Greg Lestrade. John was still asleep in his arm chair and Sherlock was taking up the couch, his hands steepled under his chin. 

"Lestrade, you need to calm down and tell me what's the matter," Sherlock yawned into the phone, his interest dropping the longer the DI panted into the phone. "And do speak up."

"I can't," Lestrade hissed into the phone, his breath heavy as he pressed the speaker closer to his lips. "Sherlock, listen to me. I'm in the wear house just outside of town, number three-sixty-five. Bring your gun and get down here at once. I need your help."

"What could you need my help with?" Sherlock asked, rolling onto his side and looking at John, the sleeping doctor shifting slightly in his chair. The experiments he could be doing...

"They have Sally and Anderson and are quickly cornering me," Lestrade growled into the speaker, voices coming closer to where he was squatting behind a barrel. 

Lestrade glanced around the corner, spotting the four large men that were coming for him. They were easily twice - if not three - times his size and were carrying large, military guns. Lestrade gasped quietly, turned down the volume on his phone and crouch-run over to another part of the stack of barrels. He knew they were going to find him, they were blocking the only exit. There wasn't even a damn window! 

"Lestrade, you have a gun. Why don't you just-"

"No, I don't, Sherlock," Lestrade panicked, his heart picking up as he heard the clicking of a gun, the bullet set to be shot. "I ran out of rounds and I don't have another round on me. Sherlock, please-"

"Fine, give me a few and I'll be right down."

Lestrade was about to answer when the phone was pulled from his grip, a sickening crunching sound of it being snapped in half sounded before two pairs of strong hands grabbed his arms and yanked him up to his feet. 

"Tie him up with the others," a dark, musky voice ordered from somewhere Lestrade couldn't see before he was dragged away. 

\----------

Sherlock stood in front of the coat rack, his phone out as he typed away vigorously on the tiny keypad. John came from the kitchen, gun in hand, and slipped it into the small of his back. He reached for his jacket as Sherlock looked up at him, his eyes scanning John over.

"You're scared," Sherlock muttered, slipping his phone in his pocket and pulling the door open. His long coat swept elegantly behind him as he jogged down the stairs, John on his heels.

"Yeah, I'm scared, Sherlock," John growled as his friend waved down a nearby taxi. "Lestrade could be in serious danger. I'm worried about him. Aren't you?"

Sherlock shrugged but staid quiet. He couldn't let John know just how terrified he really was; not only for Lestrade but for himself and for what he was dragging John into. If Lestrade and his team couldn't handle these idiots, they had to be rough. Was John going to be strong enough to handle them even with Sherlock by his side? 

It was all risky, but they had to do it. Sherlock owed it to Lestrade to help him. He had saved him during the worst time of his young life and it was about time to return the favor. 

It was a short ride to the ware house, and after Sherlock paid the cabbie and climbed out after John, it was but a short few minutes before they were sneaking their way through the building. They snaked their way deeper into the ware house, crouching behind barrels and ducking under crates. John had his gun ready and cocked, his arms straight as he jogged over to duck behind a set of crates, the gun by his hip and ready for action. Sherlock could tell he was still tense, but he was glad that John was there. He felt safer with the good doctor having his back. He knew he could trust him. 

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock heard John hiss at him and turned to look at the doctor. John waved him over to where he was and pointed to something that was blocked by the crates to Sherlock. Sherlock made his way over to John and glanced around the corner. Lestrade, Anderson, and Sally all sat back to back, their hands and mouths taped together with duct tape and their feet chained to the metal chairs they sat on. 

"Greg," Sherlock breathed, his heart plummeting to his stomach as he watched the DI struggle against his binds. 

"Did you just call him Greg?" John asked, looking back at Sherlock with a raised eyebrow. Sherlock quietly cleared his throat, squaring his shoulders and shaking his head. 

"Didn't mean to," he waved off. "The coast looks clear, let's go get them out while we can."

John raised an eyebrow at the detective before locking his arms again, following Sherlock quickly over to where Sally, Anderson, and Lestrade were bound. Sherlock knelt down in front of Lestrade, a light hand on is knee, and pulled the duct tape away from the DI's mouth. John took time to go and cover Sherlock, blocking the only other way into the room and watching for any signs that someone was coming. 

"Are you all right, Inspector?" Sherlock breathed, giving the DI's knee a small squeeze. 

"We're all fine," Lestrade muttered back, taking a deep breath of air through his mouth, the amount he was able to bring in feeling amazing in his burning lungs. "Get us out of here before they come back."

Sherlock nodded once than started on the duct tape. That fell away with ease than posed the next problem, the chain. There was a single central lock that held them all to the chairs and required a key to open - which Sherlock didn't have. 

"John, let me see your gun," Sherlock hissed, holding out his hand for the device, which John handed over slowly.

"Sherlock, what are you going to do-"

Sherlock pointed the gun as the lock and fired off two quick shots, the lock falling open. He shoved the gun back at John and quickly started unraveling the chain from around the DI's feet, making sure that Sally and Anderson were free as well. Everyone was standing in no longer than seconds later and Sherlock started pushing them towards the way he and John came. 

"Go," he growled, following soon behind them. He could hear voices behind them shouting angrily at one another, but there was no time to go back and get them. They needed a bigger team before they could confront this group, so for now, Mycroft's CCTV camera's could keep an eye on them. 

Anderson and Sally took the squad car as Sherlock hailed the nearest taxi, John, Lestrade and himself all piling in. Lestrade and John were panting heavily as Sherlock sat back and texted instructions to Mycroft, telling him which ware house to keep an eye on. Once finished, he turned his attention back to Lestrade and John sitting across from him, Lestrade staring at him. 

"Thank you," Lestrade muttered, his breath evening out again. "Both of you. I'll get another team assembled and we'll all be able to go in there."

"Did you know what you were up against?" John asked, his breathing becoming normal again as well. 

"Yes," Lestrade signed, running a hand through his hair. "And I was stupid enough to think the three of us could handle it."

"The important thing is that he's safe," Sherlock said, his voice low as though he didn't want John to hear him. John turned his attention to Sherlock and cocked his head to the side. 

"I've never heard you say something like that before," John commented, one eyebrow inching up. 

Sherlock shrugged and glanced up at Lestrade, who was smiling at the detective, before dropping his gaze again. 

"If you don't mind, John, I'd like to take Sherlock back to my office and talk to him a bit," Lestrade said, turning his smile on John. "I think he could help me come up with a plan for the next time."

John nodded and leaned forward, telling the cabbie to head to 221B Baker Street before leaning back. The ride was quick, and soon, Sherlock and Lestrade were heading up the elevator in New Scotland Yard to the DI's office. 

"Please, Sherlock, take a seat," Lestrade motioned to the chair across from his desk before shutting the door. He paced across the room and sat down in his own chair, Sherlock sitting as well. 

"Why do you really want me here, Inspector?" Sherlock smirked, leaning back and folding his hands together in his lap. "I think we both know, but I want to make sure we're on the same page here."

"You know why," Lestrade muttered, his face gaining a bit of color in the cheeks. "We've talked about this before, Sherlock. You remember what I said."

"And you remember what I said," Sherlock commented, shaking his head. "I'm much too busy with my work."

"I know, but so am I, and-"

"Then what would be the point in starting?" Sherlock cut him off. "We're both busy, we both are running around the city; when would we have time?"

"We work with each other most of the time, Sherlock," Lestrade said, leaning on his desk. "It's not like we'd never have time." 

"But we're both at work, there's crime scenes, Lestrade."

"Call me Greg, please, Sherlock. Just call me Greg."

"Why?"

"Lestrade is too formal."

Sherlock sighed heavily and half heartedly rolled his eyes. "Fine," he sighed. "Greg, we just don't have the time to waste."

"It wouldn't be a waste of time..."

"I think it would. What makes you say otherwise?"

"Because I really like you, Sherlock!" Greg growled, throwing his hands up and standing, beginning to pace the room. "And you told me yourself that you like me. It wouldn't be a waste of time. We both like each other and people date when they find someone they like. It wouldn't be a waste of time. We can see each other at crime scenes, meet up after I get off of work when you're not on a case, hell, if you wanted, I'd even be willing to do experiments in your flat with body parts so long as I can do them with you! Please, Sherlock!"

Sherlock fell silent, for once at a loss of words, and just looked the DI over. He seemed to mean everything he said, and the man wasn't half bad looking either. But... Could Sherlock really date someone? Especially a man? He didn't care if he was gay or not, but people already called him a freak, would they judge him farther if he was gay? He's seen stories on people who were hurt for being gay, people attacking them and their families; what if John got hurt just because he lives with him? Could he do that?

"I-I don't know, Lestrade," Sherlock stammered. Greg's heart dropped when he heard Sherlock use Lestrade once again. "I'm... I'm not sure if I could date a man; or anyone, at that. I'm... scared."

"Don't be," Greg muttered, coming around the desk and putting his arm around Sherlock, sitting on the arm of the chair. "You know I'm here to protect you and I wouldn't stop, especially if we're in a relationship. I care about you, Sherlock. Will you give me a chance?"

Sherlock bothered his bottom lip for a moment before slowly nodding. "I guess," he said, looking up at the DI. "I'd like to try."

Greg smiled down at the detective, his eyes so blue that they were almost ice. Greg loved that, loved the mess of hair, loved the face that it boxed in so perfectly. "May I... kiss you, Sherlock?"

Sherlock only nodded before Greg bent over and slowly caught Sherlock's lips in a soft, passionate kiss. Sherlock's lips were so soft, so perfect, so rough.

So right.


End file.
